The NVA soldiers moved back and forth in the tufted growth mud distance, like sidewinding snakes across a desert of nearly flat sand.
The numbers, I instantly knew, although it was impossible to see individuals at distance even through the mildly magnified gun sight, were too large to be handled or overcome by firing the six gun barrels of the Ontos. I turned my head and started to move from my seat atop the ammo boxes Rio had substituted in place of the metal swivel chair. I stopped midway because Fusner was there already, holding out the radio handset.
“Ripcord, gun control officer, sir,” he said, his tone indicating that he and Zippo had probably been able to come to the same conclusion I had without the aid of any visually enhancing equipment.
“Bob, give me a battery of three, drop one hundred from the first grid of adjustment,” I ordered, and then went on, “they’re coming from the edge of the jungle across the mud flats at us, fully exposed.”
“Roger that contact,” Bob replied, his voice flat and analytical. “The depression might be more than we can compute from here though so keep your heads down.”
I handed Fusner the handset and went back to staring intently through the gun sight, wondering why they didn’t make gun sights that had binocular vision instead of a single lens eyepiece, and marginally worried about what Bob’s ‘might be more than we can compute’ might portend.
The rain was misting gray, with slightly darker bands of it crossing the flats from east to west, moving like the ripple of waves along a stage curtain being opened or closed. I could see through the rain but the sight could not overcome the obscuring effect of the water hitting the mud, causing a mild form of ground steam that was just great enough to make things, like creeping soldiers, nearly invisible within it.
The artillery came in like an express train high above, just as before, except all the heavy rounds didn’t land where they were supposed to.
At the first explosions, I grabbed the radio handset back from Fusner so roughly he recoiled back a bit.
“Check fire, check fire,” I screamed. The reverberating explosions were still coming through the air, some from the jungle to our front but some from behind us, as well.
Ripcord had tried to adjust for the cliff overhang but missed the exact aim point because of the height of the canyon wall and unpredictable travel of those rounds when they were traveling at the very end of their maximum range.
Some of the rounds hit the top of the cliff and then, as I had worried over, bounced instead of going off harmlessly above us. I listened for Marines screaming because it was unlikely in our position at the bottom of the canyon wall that there was little doubt we’d taken casualties. Marine casualties from my artillery call. Again. I grimaced and cringed, pushing the radio handset back to Fusner.
“Call Cowboy and get some air in here,” I yelled over my shoulder without turning my head.
I could not concentrate on the effect of the short rounds. We had bigger problems. I studied what I could see across the mudflat in front of me, and tried to decide where to best expend my six recoilless shots. With what I guessed to be nearly a regiment on the move, I could not imagine, as they got closer, that any of my Marines would be able to reload the 106s, and stay alive, in the kind of small arms fire concentration that would be brought to bear. I had to fire when the enemy was just beyond two hundred meters, where the explosives in the beehive rounds were set to go off. If I fired too soon then the flechettes, traveling initially at twenty-two thousand feet per second from the explosion would very quickly be slowed in the thick rain-filled air and become ineffective. If I fired too late the flechettes would fan out beyond the force I was shooting at.
I wiped my eyes, trying to see through the sight more clearly. I’d left my helmet on a nearby ammo box outside and next to the right track of the Ontos, and, in spite of what I was trying to see out in front of me, I was worried that I would lose the damaged thing. I tried to focus through the fear. My helmet didn’t matter.
I stared at the moving mass in front of me, waiting for the right moment. I had to get it right. The range to the nearest four lines of stopping and starting, turning and bobbing soldiers was about four hundred meters, according to the little white marks etched into the vertical crosshair line brightly appearing on my reticle.
Three-fifty, I calculated, trying to home in on any single soldier not going down into the mud and bouncing back up. The NVA was not moving using the Marine Corps tried and true ‘fire and maneuver’ approach to crossing an open field of fire. The ‘fire’ part of that maneuver was to suppress enemy fire by keeping the enemy’s head down. In reality, the maneuver was only marginally successful in an application, but it was better than what I was seeing the NVA attempt to execute in front of me. Why were they seemingly disappearing and then reappearing? At three hundred meters, I heard several of the company M-60s open up. The sporadic nature of their fire spaced out because the gunners could see what I saw, an enormity in number that if constantly fired upon would overheat their barrels and use up their ammunition.
“I thought World War One proved that mass attacks against machine guns were impossible,” I murmured to myself, as the leading elements of several of the snaking attackers got closer.
“Fire the One-Oh-Six,” I yelled, to warn everyone who might not have gotten the message that killing back pressure was about to be thrust violently outward behind one of the guns. I punched the ping pong ball sized firing trigger for the left outboard weapon. The switches for the guns were six flat round circles of metal set in a row to match the placement of the 106 barrels.
The flechette round burst from the gun with a deafening roar, followed by an enormous whooshing sound. I’d never heard any weapon in training or in combat that sounded like a 106 being fired.
The sound, and then instant jolt of the Ontos reacting to the launching of the heavy round, caused me to blink and miss seeing the explosion itself. All I saw was a wispy cloud of gray smoke fast-disappearing in the still-falling and blowing waves of mist in the air. The enemy disappeared. Nothing was moving in front of me for seconds, then one squad or group of enemy soldiers bobbed up. I fired the second 106. This time I kept my eye open, but again there wasn’t anything to see. One moment the enemy was running back and forth crouched as low as their bodies could get, and the next there was nothing except the dissipating smoke to see. No bodies lay in the aftermath of the round’s impact. After I fired the third round I turned to instruct Fusner about reloading before I’d used up the ammo in all the barrels, but Fusner wasn’t there. Zippo and Nguyen were there.
Zippo grabbed a tube and slid the black container out. The flechette rounds had been laid out earlier in one large triangular pile.
Nguyen took the second tube. There was no plan that I could tell. Both men disappeared toward the left side of the Ontos. All I could do was stare through the reticle and wait. Minutes later Zippo patted me on the back and gave me a thumbs up.
“Locked and loaded,” he said, with a grim smile.
I sighted and fired three rounds, one after another from the right side, and then waited for the reload, keeping the three barrels on the opposing side always loaded in reserve. I didn’t keep track of how many flechette rounds I fired until Zippo hit me on the shoulder and said we only had high explosives left.
The first HE round I put near a pack of running soldiers went off, throwing up a huge column of mud. The enemy reacted similarly to the impacting of the flechette rounds, but there was a different effect that caught my attention. Not only were there no bodies littering the mud but the NVA on the field had disappeared almost the instant the round went off. All of them. And then I got it.
“Get the Gunny,” I ordered Fusner.
“Air is on the way,” Fusner reported quickly, before running off to find the Gunny.
The company had come fully online, I knew, from the near-constant din of M-60 fire, and the crisscrossing tracer rounds traveling in floating high-speed lines across the surface of the mud. But there was no enemy to be seen.
“Junior,” what’s going on?” the Gunny said, slipping back into the double door opening at the back of the Ontos. “Is air support coming?”
“They’re disappearing before my eyes,” I said, still peering into the scope. “They get up and run, I fire, and then they’re gone, but they aren’t leaving the field littered with bodies. What the hell? How’s that possible?”
“Shit,” the Gunny intoned. “I had an idea when we were setting up the machine guns. They aren’t out there trying a banzai charge at all, and they’re still out there. Spider holes. They’ve got holes dug all over across that mud flat. They raised front lip of the holes just enough so we can’t see the edge of the holes from here. They haven’t been attacking. They’ve been creeping forward, and now they’re sitting out there waiting. They had to have figured we might come back to the same position we occupied before.”
“Waiting for what?” I asked, my voice slightly quivering with the fear coiling back up in the pit of my stomach. One of the tenets drilled into all company grade officers at the Basic School was to never re-occupy the same position in a guerrilla conflict.
“To come out tonight,” the Gunny replied, lighting another cigarette. “That’s why they didn’t show their normal fear of the Ontos.”
I noted his hand shaking slightly. It was the first time I’d seen the Gunny show any weakness in any situation since I’d known him. My own fear escalated up several levels.
“They wanted to get close and inside the set-back range of the 106,” the Gunny continued, no emotion in his deep quiet voice.
“They want to go at it hand to hand in the dark.”
“Cowboy couldn’t make it so he sent Spooky,” Fusner said from just behind the Ontos, the AN-323 headset sticking out from under his helmet.
“What’s Spooky?” I asked, faintly mystified but glad any air power at all was on the way. “When are they on the station?” I continued, my nervousness too great to allow me to sit silently and wait for Fusner’s response.
“Spooky’s the 20mm variant of Puff,” the Gunny explained, “but instead of three 7.72 guns like Puff, Spooky has two rotary 20mm weapons. They’re new so I have never seen it in action.”
“It’s here,” I said, feeling a sense of relief that I knew might not be justified, but it flowed through me like a swig of hot chocolate on an icy cold day. The unmistakable deep thrum of a four-engine C-130 at low altitude seemed to make the very canyon walls vibrate.
“Give me the headset,” I ordered, holding my right hand out to Fusner. There was no point in staring out over the mud flats through the sight. The NVA had played me, and without the daylight and beehive rounds, the company would be sitting ducks in the night for a mass attack from their nearby position. The Starlight Scope would not be able to do at that point except let us know we were being overrun.
I reached the C-130 pilot without trouble. The commander of the aircraft came on personally. I filled him in on our position and asked if he’d first fly over to make sure he understood our problem. He said the name of his plane was Rhythm Rain. I remembered the first lyrics of the famous song by the same name; “listen to the sound of the falling rain.” Under different circumstances, I would have smiled at the commander’s humorous use of the song, so similar to the names I used for my own plans.
“Got your six, Junior, coming in on a port sliding pylon turn at about one thousand over your six, over.”
On cue, the big plane appeared, canted over and then performed a slow turn, it’s wings impossibly perpendicular to the bottom of the valley as it came around. I stared at the spectacle, my fear lessening, as the plane completed its full 360-degree rotation.
“I presume that Ontos sitting there has to belong to you fellas, over.”
“That’s affirmative,” I replied, relief that our own position was accurately and uniquely marked.
“We’re goin’ live my partners and friends, so meld your asses down into the loving jungle mud you got goin’ for you there.”
The 130 came around, dropped its left wing tip and opened up. It wasn’t like Puff, as stunning as that plane’s attacks had been to witness. It was different. There was no ‘braying’ or lashing tongue of yellowish red fire hosing the area, but there was plenty of sound. The sound was like a giant out of control chainsaw roaring.. A chainsaw quite possibly a thousand times the size of the largest one ever made. Puff had not hurt our ears, but I was joined by every Marine around me in covering my ears as best I could. The mud in front of the Ontos wasn’t mud anymore. It more resembled a bouncing jouncing giant field of dancing and spraying chocolate shakes. The mud was still mud though because it flew so far and wide through the air that it came blowing back over our position. Mud bits, spray, and other awful stuff rained down. I pulled myself fully into the cover of the Ontos and the Gunny did the same.
The big plane orbited for five more times, each three minute run punctuated with the roading fire. My shoulders began to slump down in relief. There was little or nothing that could survive out on the mud flats, or even lightly dug in, not from 20mm rounds. The three and a half ounces of each small exploding round delivered about ten times the power and penetration of an M-60 machine gun round, and the machine guns ammo had no explosive capability.
“We’re going to return to the barn for more ammo,” Rhythm’s commander said, “but we’ll see if we can make a vet call out here in the early hours if you feel you might need some extra care.”
The big plane waggled its wings, turned, and then flew up the valley. I sat numb, letting my hands fall from my ears. My left ear ringing but my right somewhat protected from the firing by the microphone. I hadn’t thought to respond to the Spooky flight commander. I hadn’t even asked his name.
The all-covering and uncaring mist of rain continued marching across the mud flat. The river came back with its rushing current sounds. The sediment, mud, and dirt that had been thrown into the air less than a couple of minutes earlier were all gone.
The artillery had saved us earlier but then hurt us too. Air had come in and done the job. I’d been sucked into firing all the Ontos flechette rounds, but we could survive without them as long as we could hold our current position with small arms and air returning in the morning.
Night was coming and it couldn’t come fast enough for me, the day having been an initial series of successful moves but then topped off with the short artillery rounds and the ability of the enemy to work and shoot from holes dug into the mud that were, because of the short scrub around them, unnoticeable unless we were on top of them.
The threat was still there because no one in the company was going out to check what was left of the holes until the next dawn. The Starlight Scope could be used to pick off individuals unwise enough to move out across the mud flats in the night. I had eleven rounds left for the Ontos but they were all high explosive. The flechettes had been put to no real good use, but the air support had been massively effective. The fact that we had no more of the infantry-stopping beehive rounds could leave us in a vulnerable position if the next day was to be a repeat of the one we’d just been through, although with the spider holes churned up like a spring day farmer’s field, it wasn’t likely.
I climbed out of the Ontos, found my pack and helmet, and then made my way over the berm to where the cliff overhand allowed a cave-like interior to be inhabited with relative safety.
I tossed my pack as far back as I could and then squatted down to wait for the Gunny, who I knew would be coming with a butcher’s bill of casualties over the Ripcord short rounds. It only took a few minutes for him to arrive, accompanied by Jurgens, Sugar Daddy, and their three radio operators.
“We can’t bring choppers in here at all, even for a medivac, not as long as they control the jungle mass over there,” the Gunny said, sitting close in with me, Jurgens and Sugar Daddy. “We’ve got nine wounded but none critical.”
The rest of the company NCOs either avoided me entirely or were never called forward to me for any interrogation or commands. The Gunny handled the company, as he had all along. I occasionally spoke to battalion but never to the six actual. My main contacts with the outside world in the rear areas was either through using the artillery net Prick 25 to talk to the batteries or the AN-323 to talk to the Skyraiders or other supporting aircraft.
“We can bring them in at the old airfield and hump the wounded there and the supplies back,” I replied, having given the situation some thought.
We had the nine wounded, none critically and none dead. My relief was palpable.
If the wounded were ambulatory enough to make the trek it was an accomplishable mission. Worse than the medical problem, however, was the fact that we lacked water, in spite of the incessant rain. Our C-ration supply was adequate, at best, and we needed more ammunition. Most importantly, we had to have beehive rounds for the Ontos, and they were heavy and unwieldy.
“Nobody’s going to want to cross that river under fire and hump back all that shit,” Jurgens piped in. “We’ve taken enough casualties since setting in here, but then you know that don’t you, Junior.”
I looked to Jurgen’s right side where Nguyen crouched, just inside the bracken that grew back from the edge of the berm. I motioned him away from the sergeant with a nod so small I didn’t think anybody else could notice. Nguyen moved, but not far.
My hand went to my forty-five, casually. I knew where Jurgens was going with his comment and I waited, wondering for the hundredth time whether I should just shoot the brutal, nasty man right where he sat or wait to see how the situation developed.
“You called the arty, not me,” Jurgens said, “and that cost us plenty. We didn’t lose a single Marine to the attack. That’s the second time in days where you cost us more Marines than the enemy.”
I waited, like I’d waited for the NVA to come at us, my attitude not much different toward Jurgens than it was those enemy soldiers. If Jurgens was going to continue then I knew I was going to shoot him. It had nothing to do with anger. For three weeks, I’d let the sergeant say things that made it more likely nobody in the company could respect me, not for the things I’d done, but because of the few things I had not done. I had not killed Sugar Daddy when he tried to kill me, several times. I’d not killed Jurgens when the things he said in front of other Marines had nearly the same ultimate effect.
I thought about writing home. I’d missed a day, somehow, what with the critical nature of the move and the difficulty of crossing the river and getting ready for the attack. We were still in the A Shau Valley. I sat, staring blankly at Jurgens, and thought about how long I’d been there. It seemed like years. Maybe my wife was tired of reading about the botany and biology of the verdant valley of great deadly beauty. I couldn’t write her about killing Jurgens, or the difficulties that were going to arise when his roughly assembled platoon of white crackers from the south found out.
No one said anything, following Jurgens comment. The Gunny lit a small coffee fire. He smoked one of his cigarettes but didn’t remove it from his mouth to flick away the ash. I noticed the bit of composition B burning blue and white instead of yellow and red which normally it had. The Gunny puffed on the cigarette, his eyes following my own.
“New stuff,” he said, reaching behind him to grab a white block about the size of two cigarette cartons taped together. “C-4 they call it. Burns hotter and more bang for the buck, or so the paper in the box said. 26,000 feet per second instead of twenty-two.”
I realized the safety of my .45 automatic was on. I would need to snap it off, but such a move would alert Jurgens. I knew it could be snapped off quickly and easily when I brought the weapon up, but I wanted to be certain nothing went wrong. Jurgens radio operator was nearby, as was Sugar Daddy’s. Everything and everyone there had to be taken into account.
“Apologize,” the Gunny said, finally taking his cigarette from his lips, his voice so soft it was difficult to hear him.
I looked into the Gunny’s eyes but could not tell what he was thinking, His expression was the same as it almost always was. I wanted to ask him who he was talking to but I remained silent.
“He used the Ontos effectively, led us here where we sit in safety, and he called in artillery and air to make all that happen. Some artillery went astray. That shit happens. So, apologize to the lieutenant.”
I knew instantly that the Gunny had picked up on my nod toward Nguyen, his move to the side and my placing my hand on the butt of Tex’s Colt. I knew his words weren’t about Jurgens respecting me. His request to Jurgens was a request to let the man live. He’d called me lieutenant for only the third time since I’d been in country. He didn’t take that lightly, and neither did I. He was forcing Jurgen’s hand while at the same time holding mine in abeyance.
The Gunny held out his cup of coffee toward me across the little blue and white fire, but I wasn’t looking at him. I was examining Jurgens closely like a snake might examine a nearby mouse.
What was the sergeant going to do, I wondered?
Thank you Jim.
Excellent, tight, concise writing. Easily the best series I’ve read on the Vietnam war. These books should be on the Commandant’s List of required reading for every Marine 2LT and NCO. I anxiously await your next chapter. Take your time sir. This has to be very cathartic for you. We’ll wait.
Much respect.
Bill C
US Army
193rd Infantry Brigade Panama
1984-85
Thanks a lot William for that comment and the compliments you wrote in it. There’s no way this story is ever going to be approved by
the Commandant. No way. It’s too predictive and that means that the guys going might not necessarily want to go! It’s also too universal.
It’s not just about Vietnam. It’s about all ground combat.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just gonna pebble in here and tell say you are doing an Amazing job. Writing about what happened in Vietnam in that Valley from Hell is never going to be anything but terribly difficult. God chose you to write this and gave you a purpose because He knew how hard it would be but He also knew that you were the one who could do it because of the Gifts He has given you.
Stay strong, write at the pace you are comfortable with and know how much God loves you. God Bless you.
Prayers fro you always,
Nancy
You are the embodiment of a living dream, my dear, and I cannot tell you how important it is that beings such as yourself exist to get
some of the rest of us through rough patches…
Semper fi, and thank you so much…
Jim
I was watching a movie on a plane recently, can’t remember the name, but it was about a company of Brits in the trenches in March 1918. They had been at it forever (the ones who were still alive) and they were at the breaking point. The Germans were ready to start their infamous “Spring Offensive”….the last Hail Mary to win the war before the Americans really started arriving by the hundreds of thousands. Anyway, someone on the General Staff thought it would be a neat idea to send a squad of men, led by a Lt to raid the German trenches…in broad daylight…to grab a German soldier…I guess to see what kind of shape they were in. It was insane. Hollywood took over from there as the officers argued and anguished who to send on this pointless suicide mission…and they fought long and hard NOT to send a brand new Lt with brand new men. After reading Thirty Days I was just shaking my head thinking, “You send the 11 new guys of course. Bad luck but you don’t know them, they have no idea what they’re doing..end of story.” Of course in the Hollywood version they send a beloved, very important officer to lead…and of course he is killed.
You are right ‘e’ in your analysis. One of the reasons I have written Thirty Days is to dispel the myths that led me to believe so strongly about what
war was like and how it was fought. There must be a lot of kids and young men like I was still out here and I was hoping that I might get to some of them.
There is no way the ‘beloved’ officer would have been sent and there is no way the ‘beloved’ officer would not have had enough moxey and combat experience by
then to avoid going. Anyone who really went out there was going to die and everyone in the rear would know that, just like they did in the Nam. New guys were
treated with such disdain and disgust because that is how humans treat other humans they do not want to know and do not want to send to their deaths but must.
Thanks for the great deep comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
James I just read your comments on fb and your lack of vet companionship. Most likely there are vet groups in the county seat of your county. I am a member here bbut never go to hang out or meetings. I am not very sociable not unfriendly just prefer to be by myself or in a very small group. What I have found to meet my need of being around vets but not be too closely confined, is being part of our veterans military honor guard. Some meet at the club and get the rifles and flags others just show up at the cemetery. We fire the 21 gun salute and present the flag to the family. It takes an hour or so is outside and
not confining at all. You are with the greatest people I know. There is no rank or anyone more a vet than anyone else. I would suggest that you check with a local funeral director and get the names of some of the vets in your area that are involved in this service up there in your area. The same goes for anyone else that may read this. simper fi
thanks a lot Don. Much appreciate the care and advice you are offering. Yes, it is lonely and difficult to have other vet friends.
I will look into that…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim Time to quit jacking off and get ur pack back on ur kind of like some of the girls who would leave you with blue balls. I could say please get back to writeing but that just aint me . HAGD Omer
I have not left writing at all Omer. I have tried to set a more consistent pace for writing the chapters and that’s had some success,
but consistency at putting this all down, which with life coming at me like it comes at you, has proven difficult in that regard.
I put my chapters up here for free so I don’t feel quite so bad about disappointing people’s expectations. I did write some
political stuff because I thought it was important but there are too many on here too far out there to discuss belief systems
at all. This is not college and it’s easy to forget that. So, no more political or personal opinion. I am back at writing the story.
Semper fi, and thanks for writing, as usual.
Jim
James tell Omar it’s yours and you can do anything you want with it. Oh and another great chapter.
Well, Omer is a great guy so I can’t exactly ‘tell’ him much at all. I learned that in the Nam!
Thanks for the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Keep up the Gret work Sir – I will be off line for a month or so but I know you are doing what you think is best. Take care and have a nice Summer. No reply needed as I will not get it until the end of July
thanks a lot for the comment of support and care. Means a lot to me…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, am wondering how long your temper tantrum is going to last this time, before we get the next chapter of TDHS? It has been over two weeks now!
Note: It does not matter whether the material is free or not, what matters is the writer’s reputation at meeting his own deadlines. You are not doing too well in that regard!
The drummer. March to the beat of the drummer that you hear. I march to the beat of my own drummer, not your drummer.
The chapters are provided by me free of charge, which gives me a lot of license in meeting any deadlines I might make.
Your previous communications, support and condition do not warrant a biting response on my part, so you will not get one.
I am sorry I am late, but life comes at me too and I’m not going to offer excuses in detail for that. Stand by and do
your part here and I will do mine to the best of my ability.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
And you, of all men on here, stop bitching. It doesn’t become you.
Well if I had a future to look forward to, I might have more patience with you. Unfortunately that is not the case.
From the remarks I have seen from some of your readers, I am not the only one who is put off by your lax attention to detail in finishing one of the best works you have ever done. Oh well, to each his own.
I guess I just don’t understand, and maybe I can’t. This is not like writing a screenplay for some show on television.
And I truly give a damn about the men and women who come on her to read and write, but I can only do certain things at certain times
in this physical universe….and there it is and will remain….
The segment is done and will go up when Chuck gets up and sees it in the morning…
Go at your own pace James. Your recall doesn’t come easy. The rest of us can wait……or not.
Sometimes it’s just gotta be “control+Alt+delete”.
Semper Fi
Thank you most sincerely!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, take your time and continue to make it truly excellent as it has been all along. I too check every day for a new post with great anticipation, but I know this must be hard for you and I honor your commitment to sharing something so difficult and painful from your past. Continue at your own pace, you are appreciated. I purchased the 1st book but am waiting until all 3 are available as a signed set for the next purchase.
Thanks Chris, and I apologize for taking so long to respond. I much appreciate the support and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
James don’t let the comment from omer hadsall get to you. he was a little rude in his words. you have a few thousand vets ( and thank that is a low number) that love what your putting in words. its hard to relive a nightmare. keep up the good work. waiting on the next Billy b.
Hell, Omer is a bit of okay. Funny. Great heart.
Thanks for the comment in defense of me though.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, Is there any information on Kilo and the 4 lt’s that are leading them?
The story will unfold more as it continues to open…
Thanks for caring Chuck…
Semper fi,
Jim
thanks Jack, for the compliment and the loyalty expressed here.
Semper fi,
Jim
You were in my mind this Memorial day along with others. thank you James…..
Thanks a million Al…smile…
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt. You were in continuous combat the whole month you were there…and the company seemed to be there weeks before you arrived without being relieved. Was the plan from the top to keep you there until you either took the entire valley and won the war by yourselves, or until you were all wiped out? I don’t mean to be a smart ass but was it just attrition that the bosses were after, the whole idiotic Westmoreland inflection point strategy? Kill the NVA at a faster rate than they could put new men into the field…wipe out a company or two of Marines to destroy a regiment of NVA?
1. Project transition not only replaced Marines killed or wounded daily but it deadened command to the fact that the unit itself was weakened and hurt.
2. Command did little coordination to communicate losses or attribute them to specific units. Casualties, if many were inflicted on Marines were spaced out over
time to cover media outrage at the size of losses in a particular unit.
3. Nobody wanted to come to the field from the rear because they knew they would die so they depended on brand new guys coming into country and new company grade officer
were limited in number. The 11 or so that came in with me, for example, went right out to the field as quickly as they could be hauled there.
4. The rear believed that the field forces were killing more than they were killing of the NVA because there was no reward for telling them the truth and only trouble
if there were not a lot killed.
5. There was a lot more ‘take care of the little shit’ going on in the rear and also a much greater lack of care than I can describe for the guys in the field,
and respect as well.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sorry Lt.
I don’t know what for e….
Semper fi,
Jim
Knew it would come to this confrontation one day. On the edge of my seat as always. You’ve gained several new readers in this area. Next chapter posted tomorrow?!😂 Can’t wait.
Th new chapters I am trying to make happened on Sunday night for Monday presentation.
So far, I’ve gotten pretty good about that. No real promises, however, as some chapters are more difficult to write and stay
right on top of than others…
Semper fi, and thanks for being a fan…
Jim
Missed your deadline again. Don’t know which will come first, the return of Christ or your next chapter?
thanks for the motivation here…
Lol, someone has to get you on the stick. Keep in mind, if it was not a good story no one would want to finish it!
Thank you J.
Semper fi,
Jim
Good afternoon Sir….just returned from the unveiling and dedication at Camp Pendleton of the 5th Marines Vietnam Memorial…2,706 names..and quite a few from Panal 42W…made their way onto these new granite stones…it was great to see so many of us gathered there…… As for the Valley….the relief at hearing only nine non critical wounded was ‘palpable’…such an easy word to say..but it hides so much..there was so much hope and faith in the FDC crews and their guns….but the weather, and the ammo was always what could stop your heart for those few seconds before impact…especially when you knew the distance involved….Hated the ‘gun line’…more than anything..always had those silent prayers as the rounds came shrieking through the air….please, please no short rounds this time…. nobody wanted those Nine ‘non-criticals”….but they were so much better than 100 dead…….. As for Jurgens…at the time..I would like to think I’d a said fuk you Jergens and tried to beat him to death right there in the mud…..but today….if I met him…I’d probably buy him a beer…and say fuk it…don’t mean nuthin’……Semper Fi Lt….
Wew, Larry…back to your usual literary genius. Thanks for laying this one down and the deep intrinsic intellect you display in doing so.
Nice writing based upon even nicer thinking…
Semper fi,
Jim
powerful….
Thanks for the one word but powerful compliment James…
Semper fi,
Jim
There were 7.62 mini guns and 5.56 mm. Think that was a typo? I thought the ones on Puff were 5.56 mm but I could be mistaken.
7.62, but I am not certain of that. 5.56 from an aircraft would not have put much residual energy on target but that was and is not my area of expertise.
Thanks for the question and the comment here SSG…
Semepr fi,
Jim
FYI: Puff The Magic Dragon. This is an AC-47, otherwise known as “Puff The Magic Dragon” after the Peter, Paul, and Mary song of those days. This dragon, however, was not the benign one of song. Clearly visible on the left side of the aircraft are the barrels of three 7.62 mm gatling guns protruding from the open windows.
The AC-130 has an unpressurized cabin, with the weaponry mounted to fire from the port side of the fuselage. During an attack, the gunship performs a pylon turn, flying in a large circle around the target, therefore being able to fire at it for far longer than in a conventional strafing attack. The AC-130H Spectre was armed with two 20 mm M61 Vulcan cannons, one L60 Bofors 40 mm cannon, and one 105 mm M102 howitzer; after 1994, the 20 mm cannons were removed. The upgraded AC-130U Spooky has a single 25 mm GAU-12 Equalizer cannon in place of the Spectre’s two 20 mm cannons, an improved fire control system, and increased ammunition capacity.
I don’t think the cannons were installed when you were over there. In 1971, I saw one with a 105 sticking out the open rear door.
Thanks for all the data. I can only report on what I experienced over there at that time.
And sometimes those reports are based upon what others told me when they din’t really have a solid grasp.
Thanks for the hard data of the weaponry of the time…
Semper fi,
Jim
Just returned from the Rolling Thunder demonstration in DC where I met and made a lot of new Veteran friends. I also,I believe, brought some new readers to our group here Jim,hope so anyway. Another amazing chapter! Jurgens sure has a short memory! You opened my eyes when you wrote of ptsd in country! Always associated that with stateside behavior. How shortsighted of me! Of course we would’ve been affected, and all our decisions while there! Thanks for the insight and great writing Jim! Semper Fi! Paid my respects at panel 42w!
Yes, Jack, and thank you so much. Harley riders have really opened my eyes to the guys and gals riding on those things. I didn’t have the best opinion about them until I found
out that so many of them are my combat brothers and sisters. No wonder they want to be out there on the open road with no containment and the wind in their faces. Yes. I now
fully understand. I’m too old to get one but not too old to support them out there. They probably won’t understand when I beep and wave from my German cocoon but what the hell.
Anyway, I, and most of the real deal guys who were around me in the hospitals I inhabited for a year, were batshit crazy. Being wounded and forced to be inside without contact
with the real outside world actually helped, I think. Buffer time. You could not live through what we lived through and either be in it or come through as anything but totally
mentally modified for the now and for the later. Thanks Jack for bringing this subject up so well…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, the proper wave is clutch hand (left) down at a 45 degree angle, index and middle fingers forming a downward vee. I’m guessing there will be a bunch of us that know who you are.
With you all the way…up the hill…my friend Walt…
Semper fi,
Jim
The big plane waggled its wings, turned, and then flew up the valley. I sat numb, letting my hands fall from my ears. My left ear ringing but my right somewhat protected from the firing by the microphone.
Microphone (or headset) helped your hearing in your right ear ?? Just a thought.
Once again from the edge of my seat and holding my breath..
SEMPER Fi
Thanks for the great compliment and the remainder of your editing comment as well.
Appreciate the help.
Semper fi,
Jim
I stood in the rain yesterday morning in front of a Wall in J-Ville, home of Camp LeJeune. Reading names to my wife, telling stories and shedding tears for my Brothers lost in a far away land. Stories she’s already heard before and tears she’s wiped away many times. I find comfort in your story Sir, comfort in the knowledge that many years from now I will still be telling those stories, shedding those tears and never forgetting those guys that gave it all away trying to give freedom to some people who never really wanted it. For some of us, every day is Memorial Day. Semper Fidelis LT.
Mike, I am sure glad that you have your wife, and she sounds like a ‘keeper’ because so many spouses cannot continuance what post traumatic stress does
over time. How time stopped at a certain point and how the emotional threshold is maintained…all through he years. I thank you for thanking me for
being so some small help to you. My story is mostly a story about the reality of trying to do something nearly impossible while trying also to
stay alive doing it without all the trappings and mythology of Hollywood or any of that. Thanks for caring to the intensity that you do and thanks
for being one of us…
Semper fi, my brother,
Jim
James,
I stopped by 42W and said a prayer for all
Thank you
Mike
Now that’s just plain nice and my heart goes out to the guys on that panel. Just another panel of the so many but
particular for me. Up there a ways on the wall, not one of those low ones that people make pencil tracing of.
Not forgotten, although as time goes by and all the people who fought, died and lived through it are gone then
people will no longer collect and grieve or remark much at all. I understand. We must live on. Thanks you so very much
for going there and for visiting the guys and for writing on here about it. You have made my day and night…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Excellent write James keep them coming LT.
Semper Fi
Thanks ever so much Les. Means a lot to me to hear such things…
Semper fi,
Jim
“listen to the sound(you mean rhythm) of the falling rain.”
Yes, the correction is noted. I still hear it in my head the wrong way!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Good installment. One minor typo: in the 40th paragraph, I think you mean “7.62” where you said “7.72”.
Yes, that is correct. I am presuming Chuck, the real final editor here, is all over it but I will check to make
sure. There were and are not 7.72 rounds I’ve ever heard of…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Great story telling… never forget the first time i heard ‘Puff’ – it was at night and my back was turned the opposit direction of the aircraft.
I heard what sounded like a very loud growl – then turned around to see the aircraft banking and firing what looked red water coming from the AC-47.
That would have been summer of ’69’ just east of LZ Stud.
Yes, those planes loaded with rotary delivery systems of all kinds and stuffed with more ammo than
could ever be carried in the field. A wonder to behold and never forgotten for those of us who received the support
and were close in to its delivery.
Semper fi,
Jim
The first time I saw one of those guys firing I was awestruck. I could not believe it possible that not only were that many rounds being fired, but the were going where they were supposed too. Amazing how the inventions of war can be so dramatic. Too bad we cannot put as much effort in making this place a better one. Too all of my fellow GI’s on the wall, remember, to us everyday is Memorial Day. We will never forget you and may you rest in peace.
The air people were dramatically good across the board in the Nam.
Amazing ability to hit what they needed to hit as long as they could
have ground observers to work with.
Seeing down into the jungle from up in the air was next to impossible.
It was communications with people on the ground that made the difference,
and then the talent of the people flying those planes and choppers or whatever.
Thanks for the great comment…and the compliment of your writing it…
Semper fi,
Jim
I will never forget the night, early in 68, when I saw the “red water” coming down and one crazy guy was firing a green stream back up at Puff. I could not help thinking what a set that guy has!
Thanks for writing about some of your own experience Ken.
And thanks for writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you LT, a terrific chapter. One in which the fear factor came up and I realized it affected everyone. The longer term Marines were just as scared as everyone else. Probably why Jergens made such a nasty comment. Losing men wounded or otherwise ment less people to fight the enemy and less chance of everyone’s survival. How you keep this all under control is beyond me. So many balls in the air all at once. JIm
It is the universal constant in combat and it’s not portrayed much at all in movies or television series or even
the historical drivel that’s fielded as war truth. Embedded reporters my ass. You embed a reporter and he writes the truth
about what’s going in actual combat and he’s as dead as a doornail. What happened in the A Shau stayed in the A Shau, and we are talking
dead not Vegas here….and there…
Semper fi,
Jim
Excellent!One of the best chapters if not the best. Feels like we’re there in the suck with y’all. Semper Fi!
“There in the suck,” now that sounds like it really was. You may have meant muck but suck says it all!!!
Thanks for the compliment and the support…
Semper fi,
Jim
No Jim, he meant “suck”.A lot of guys used that expression.Sometimes it did indeed refer to the mud and other times it was meant to describe the situation in general. Often times it meant the Army or the branch you were in.
Thanks for the clarification Bill. I get it and I have heard the word suck enough in life but I thought he’d made a mistake. Better meaning
of intensity with suck though. Thanks for the research and presenting it here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Impressive writing again James…especially for memorial day…I have to say that I was out and about yesterday and I saw a Marine, standing at attention, in his dress blues on a street corner at a main thoroughfare. He had two flags, one on each side, with signs that said “freedom isn’t free”. He wasn’t asking for money…he had no collection bucket…he was just making a statement…and as I passed I noticed that one of his legs was a prosthetic…and I have to say this old army guy lost his shit…I drove through traffic with tears rolling down my face…he asked for nothing. He was just reminding us of the cost. God bless him and all who served and have come home less than whole…that is why this site and your story means so much to so many, especially of our generation, because so many came home less than whole…and no one cared. Thanks again for telling your incredible experience.
Thanks for that Memorial Day story Mark. Yes, that coming home, not to jeers and spit, which most of us didn’t get hit with, but to a complete lack
of care was devastating. No good job, just chucked out to take our chances, disabled or not. And the social structure set up to make sure that
nothing that we’d done could really be discussed without huge biting shutdowns and outs.
Thanks for pointing out what you pointed out here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Amen. Been there. Lost some pieces, and except for a few, most could have cared less. It has been a struggle, but the bastards won’t win. No matter what branch of the service, we will prevail.
Well, prevailing was also called staying alive. The fight for territory wasn’t really an issue as nobody, except sometimes them underground, ever
occupied the same territory for any extended time (some of the firebases were pretty permanent too). Thanks for the observations in your comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Something odd here now, when I reply, my comments do not show up like they used to, so that I can check them out. That was not the case as in the past, when I was posting my replies.
What the hell. I will call Chuck about that. Your comments receive the same nearly immediate attention and response by me personally.
Chuck will do some corrections. But that’s it. Nothing’s changed that I know of but I will go at it…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Jim.
J, you are most welcome. You are a real class act and whatever I can do for you in life I sure as hell will…on here or where you are.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
I’m actually breathing hard and sweating after reading this Sir. How do you do it? You stress me out haha. I love it!
I don’t know how I do it. I just write along as it went down in my memory banks. It is truly amazing how little outside
internet research I’ve needed. The old maps, the tattered diary, my wife’s and mom’s letters they saved that I wrote and the old
manuscript I started but never finished in 1970. That’s about it. I had to turn off the television special 1968 Sunday night while
I was finishing the segment. That news was just way too much phony bullshit, sort of like the 60 Minutes segment about friendly
fire. More bullshit that I have a hard time taking when I’m writing but can just ignore when I am not…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jurgens needs a body bag. Comes a time when you have just had enough of somebody’s crap especially someone affecting unit integrity. Hope Gunny it’s an end to his mouth.
Tough nasty talk was not common in combat because of the true exposure right then and there to
terminal action. A lot of guys died because of something that got said at the wrong time or in the wrong place.
Of course, ‘friendly fire’ as you might have gleaned from my writing, was a whole lot more prevalent and much more secret and
unreported than anyone wants to talk about. Thanks for the cogent comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Edge of the seat reading, now I can breathe! Keep it coming…
Thank you most kindly Dave. I am writing the next segment for Sunday deadline.
Thanks for the extra motivation…
Semper fi,
Jim
James….The threat was still there because no one in the company was going out to check (the) what was left of the holes until the next dawn. The Starlight Scope could be used to pick off individuals unwise enough……. thanks for the great read.
You are most welcome John, and I much appreciate the compliment of your coming on here to express how you feel..
Semper fi,
Jim
Check fire always made us check our pins and figures,the gun target line, and the gun dope! We hated that command. Our azmith stakes were right on and out slide rules were clean. Our hearts were with you!
Yes, the battery at Ripcord was trying its heart out and firing off the charts to do so.
That’s risk for the battery because the shit can come back to haunt them when friendly casualties are
counted back at battalion and blame has to be assigned. The Army was terrific in risking for us out there…
Semper fi,
Jim
An appropriate read for Memorial Day! As a writer and author I envy your writing style!!!
Night was coming and it couldn’t come fast enough for me, the day having been an initial series of successful moves but then topped off with the short artillery rounds and the ability of the enemy to work and shoot from holes dug into the mud that were, because of the short scrub around them, unnoticeable unless we on top of them. “unnoticeable unless we WERE on top of them…”
thanks Bill for the great compliment and for putting it up on here in public…
Semper fi,
Jim
WOW !
Thanks for the one word meaningful compliment Bill!!!
Semper fi,
jim
Good thing the Gunny is keeping a lid on things between you and Jurgens. Not sure I would’ve had the patience you’ve displayed but that’s why I was never an officer and/or in combat. Hat’s off to you for waiting that one out.
The Gunny was a brilliant master of observation slaved together with life experience. He just knew shit that I never did
have the time to learn. We lived because of the Gunny not me. He used me like another tool in his survival assembled kit.
And I performed for and around him, or I would not be writing this.
thanks for the intensity of your comment and your intellect displayed here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Always tense shit, but what gets to me are the right on descriptions of living conditions. My unit, A Co. 1/3, was in the field enough and during monsoon that I know what it’s like to live underwater and have utilities rotting off, your feet clamming up and just try and imagine yourself dry. And yeah this hits close to home on Memorial day. Semper Fi.
Thanks Mike for the great mention of your own time in the monsoons, conditions most people have no clue about when it comes to living wet misery.
Appreciate your compliment too.
Semper fi,
Jim
because of the short scrub around them, unnoticeable unless we (were) on top of them.
The threat was still there because no one in the company was going out to check the what was left of the holes until the next dawn. (? omit the before what)
The Starlight Scope could be used to pick off individuals unwise enough (to) move out across the mud flats in the night.
I knew would be coming with a butcher’s bill (of)casualties over the Ripcord short rounds
He’d called me lieutenant for only the third times (should you delete the s in times?)
Thank you Sir for this latest chapter. I hope these suggestions are helpful. If not, let me know, and I will stop.
Semper Fi!
Thank you for your diligence in reading, Skeeter.
Noted and corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another one bites the dust or should I say mud . Got my old blood pumping on this one. and I think Jurgens is lucky if he is in the next segment . But probably thanks to the Gunny . Correction—-unnoticeable unless ( we ) on top of them Thanks Lt. Semper fi
Thanks Roger for the great comment and the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Is this the comment I got to too late? Or was that the problem?
Semper fi,
Jim
The threat was still there because no one in the company was going out to (check the what) was left of the holes until the next dawn.
check the what. ???
Oh, yes, the treat was indeed still there and in great number…
Semper fi,
Jim
If memory serves me right didn’t you save Jurgens life by dragging his ass out of the river. Maybe you should of let his ass drown. Sure would of saved you a lot of grief. Yes I know that would of been difficult to do or would it. Hope you have a Great Memorial Day as we remember our fallen brothers.Another great episode.
The guys over there had PTSD while they were serving, not just when they got home! Harder to forgive them their shitty behavior (from my standpoint)
then but not now. Extraordinary tension, pressure and fear. All of us, not just me. I thought it was just me at the time. I thought of the ‘old hands’
there longer than me as tougher and the real deal and me as the faker and posturing officer who knew next to nothing. Now I would shake Jurgen’s hand with
a wry smile. Thanks for the great meaningful comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I think you are right about the PTSD. We always had that fear even after being in country for a long time. It never left although it might of lessened a bit. Not only did we have to worry about the enemy but all the other things that might kill you. Staying wet 24hrs a day during monsoon season,your skin rotting away,freezing your ass off. So many things that will mess with your mind. Wondering if some FNG would do something stupid that would get you killed. I walked point to the Lz my last day in the bush hoping I was smart enough to do so without getting killed. Some called it crazy but I made it. I was still scared.
Yes, the little tiny fears of death from the food, water when we had to drink local, insects and parasites we knew nothing about,
snakes, alligators, and the rotten unknown in that rotten jungle.
Hard to bring all those ancillary fears into the story simply because of detail.
I already get a lot of heat because of the enormous amount of detail I provide which is both supportive of credibility
but tinged with the ability to bore some.
Thanks for the great comment about your own experience…
Semper fi,
Jim
James I did not hump the jungle like you and so many others did. My job was to sleep in a different Fire Base every night or every other night. You have brought so many dormant memories like Puff and artillery and mud and rain and other worldly life. I also knew dust so thick and stifling as to causing one to cough up red dust/mud many hours after. Keep up the details details details. I am trying to write about my time and I do the same thing. God Bless Keep up the good work Are You submitting your writings to the National Archives You Should As Always Sergeant G.
Have not considered sending the work to the archives because I am writing it as fiction.
Thanks for the compliments inherent and not so inherent in your words. I much appreciate.
And thanks for laying out some of your own experiences traveling some of the same jungle so many
of us did…
Semper fi,
Jim
think you mean mid, not mud in first sentence…though I really like the paragraph which starts with the rain and the smokey mist as an intro to this section…thats the point, right, things are not always clear evenbwhen they are right in front of you?
The combat area in a jungle situation is a murky awakening bastard of loosely held together bits of fauna and flow with
killing humans circulating through. Thanks for making that pretty clear and illustrating my work.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow!
Thanks Dick for that one word great compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Leader. High level leadership qualities. I would’ve shot Jurgens in the forehead before he finished his last words… I lack patience and temperance… unlike you. Always good to read your next chapters.
Stay well. Send another chapter soon.
Over there it was not patience and tolerance that ruled anything. It was all fear, but some hid it better than others.
Little things gave it away, like the first shaking of the Gunny’s own hand, like my own. The shaking did not go away, by the way,
for many years, but I got better at covering and hiding it. I was astounded to see it come on the movie screen in Saving Private Ryan.
I so identified with that. Thanks for the meaningful and terrific comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
As good a chapter as you’ve penned! Just excellent!
Thanks for the great compliment Buck.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great writing, James!
Very moving post to read today.
Today is not your holiday, nor mine: You survived. By luck, by skill, by divine intervention, or some combination of them.
I survived my time in the Marine Corps by serving in peacetime and as a lawyer.
It is not my father’s holiday either: He survived Salerno, Anzio and points in between.
Today is the holiday for John Franklin Sprague, my fathers friend who died in an artillery barrage in Italy(and for whom I am named).
Today is the holiday for Kerry Wilson, my childhood neighbor who died in Vietnam less than a week in country-riding in the back of a deuce-and-a-half that was ambushed.
And today is the holiday for the guys on Panel 42W.
And nearly-countless others.
Semper Fi.
John Boone
I forgot I wrote that panel number to somebody on here. You guys remember everything…sort of like me I guess.
Anyway, thanks for that writing you just did and the meaning it reaches into all of our hearts. Yes, and I am so happy
that you made it without injury or death.
Semper fi,
Jim
“We’ve got nine wounded but none critical.” Thats was a good read on Memorial Day.
Thanks for the great compliment and the quote that drives it Dusty…
Semper fi,
Jim
I have read most of your30 days but have to skip because of the memories etc. keep up the good work maybe I will be able to read all of it someday. in country Feb. 68 to March 69 Quang TRI NORTH TO THE Z.
Yes, you were in the shit and you give every indication of having the problems that those of us have had who were there with or around you.
Thanks for reading and I hope you come back. There is a certain therapeutic effect in not being the only one to have experienced such demeaning and painful service.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great spell binding segment! Wow!
Thanks for that great compliment Bob, and I am hard at if for next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
The AC-130 gunships were Spectres, the AC-47s were Spookys, AKA “Puff……”
Still a gripping narrative. I’m enjoying it immensely. I appreciate you service, and your effort to relate the horror you went through.
Tim
Thanks for the comment.
Although designated “Spooky” by the Air Force, the AC-47 was quickly nicknamed “Puff the Magic Dragon” by ground troops.
Regarding the AC-130: The original AC-130 Spectre, ‘Super Spooky,’ was stationed at Ubon Air Force Base the following year and conducted interdiction raids along the Ho Chi Minh trail.
The AC-130s achieved impressive results due in part to higher operating altitudes and upgraded armaments that included four 7.62mm MXU-470 miniguns, four 20mm GE M-61 Gatling guns, NOD and infrared sensors, and a fire-control computer to solve windage problems.
It is amazing how many different monikers so much artillery and aircraft ended up with.
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt, Spectres also had a 105 and bou coup flares, they were really “death from above” , , serious fire power, had a Spooky (C47) squadron at Phu Cat in 11 corp, central highlands, loved them on station, hell, loved any one on station, even the Navy, we were a little less than 20 klicks from the coast. Memorial Day comes with a heavy weight, left too many friends behind, before I learned better about F.N.Gs, still haunts me, welcome home brother!
Yes, Memorial Day is not so easy for so many of us who left so many seemingly behind. But they are always there.
Thanks for making your feelings felt on here and in your heart…
Semper fi,
Jim
Your description of your on station AF support was spot on. These days the added weapons are larger caliber as well, but the sensors allow incredible target acquisition and accuracy. And an added benefit of younger kids doing the acquisition are really good because they all have grown up in a computer world. I am proud of these kids who are willing to eat dirt and keep it from happening on our streets.
Your offering in this segment was tense made so by your unbelievable story telling efforts. Didn’t know till one of the other comments here had you telling us the gut wrenching write was back before 1970. Thank you Sir, thank you very much. Popp Joe
Thanks Poppa J, for the usual fine honed intellect at looking at things from the inside out.
Semper fi,
Jim
Really enjoying your writing! “…only the third time(s)…
Thanks for the help and the compliment Steven.
Semper fi,
Jim
There’s no doubt in my mind that you most likely had a good kill ratio on the NVA. Kind of like shooting prairie dogs. They sit by their holes, you know you’ve shot the hell out of them, go out and look around and you only find a few. However on closer inspection you see the blood and gut trails going down the holes. Whenever we called in Spooky or Puff we knew things were going to be bad for the NVA, it was. Another riveting episode that had me sitting on the edge of my chair. Thanks Sir, anxiously waiting the next episode.
thanks Bob, and yes, I think today that we killed the hell out of them and it remains amazing how they could
continue as they did so powerfully.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another white knuckle day!!
Thanks Ssgt, for that laconic compliment, which helps keep me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
The ebb and flow of intensity between the battle with the NVA and the battles with the squad leaders keeps me on the edge of my seat.
” I remembered the first lyrics of the famous song by the same name; “listen to the sound (rythym?) of the falling rain.”
Keep it coming LT. Memorial Day Salute (I just can’t say ‘Happy’)
Thanks Sgt, sorry about taking so long to respond!
Semper fi,
Jim
Dam. I think this was one of your best chapters. Like my team leader Cpl King used to say “ you make do with what you have and with what you have you make do”. Keep writing great and can’t wait for the next chapter. Have a good Memorial Day and let’s remember the ones that came back with us in our heart but will never grow old. Semper Fi Devil Dog
Thanks ever so much for the quote and the nice compliment. Both touched me…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was blessed to be asked to do the invocation at two Memorial Day services today. I am retired law enforcement turned pastor and reconnected with them today. We always had each other’s back, but the dedication of all the veterans and current military exhibited today, makes my heart soar, knowing that all though Liberty extracts a high price, there are those willing to pay that ultimate price.
I read with admiration your stories of raw sacrifice, human endurance and inguinuity. With deep admiration I say thank you Mr. Strauss and to all who fought for each other and for others in lands far away.
.
Thanks so much Darren, means a hell of a lot to all of us that so many people of quality like you care that much.
Semper fi,
Jim
Awesome stuff as usual.
Just one sentence might need some adjustments….”I listened for Marines screaming because it was unlikely in our position at the bottom of the canyon wall that there was little doubt we’d taken casualties.” If you break it down you get, “It was unlikely that there was little doubt….”. Picky, I know… Probably two sentences would work better?
thanks for the help Pau, Chuck got this.
Semper fi,
Jim
Intense chapter. Great reading!
Thanks H. Kemp, much appreciate the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Spooky’s the 20mm variant of Puff,” the Gunny explained, “but instead of three 7.72 guns like Puff, Spooky has two rotary 20mm weapons.
Should be 7.62…
You were absolutely correct here and thanks Steve.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great chapter Lt. I only spotted two typos, 7.72 instead of 7.62 miniguns, and when the Gunny called you Lieutenant for the third time(s).
Yes, the guns wsre 7.62 as there were no 7.72 rounds ever made that I know of at that time.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sir, you are a master at writing from cliff hanger to cliff hanger. And all the words in between the opening sentence and last have adrenaline pumping in us big time. You always throw in some unexpected snag that thwarts squishing the NVA bug that persists.
Now we are left with our imaginations revving at warp speed while we sit, wait and ponder what transpires in the next segment.
Keep ’em coming.
God Bless.
And Thanks…
Thanks Walter for the great compliment and your words help breathe life into my words.
Semper fi,
Jim
Please Delete my comment of 3:58 pm Chuck…it didn’t quite explain my thoughts entirely….I prefer the post I made at 4:16 ! Thank you!
As ordered! ~~smile
Semper fi,
Jim
I can’t get enough. I’ll rue the day it’s finished.
Thank you for your service and god bless those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.
When the 3rd book is done I will be offering the 4th about my time coming home,
and then the 5th about my new work at the time when I got out and recovered for Richard Nixon in San Clemente…
it’s not been a regular life and the ride is quite some rider after the Nam too…
Thanks for wanting to take that ride…
Semper fi,
Jim
There’s plenty of people who have nothing to add about John Wayne’s “contributions to a warrior’s spirit. Yet, with that said, I return to Jurgen’s Dilemma. He’d called Junior out who no one present to the scene would mistake for the movie star called Duke. God, I admire the Gunny! Balls of steel! As he set up Jurgen’s to recite the line from McLintock…” but, somebody needs to…but, I won’t,… I won’t,…like Hell I won’t! ” Jurgens will realize he ain’t no famous actor in a movie…and come to grips with what’d surely happen for an inappropriate challenge to what Gunny thinks, might be a genuine… Audie Murphy! Great writing James…Semper Fi
Always appreciate your in-depth insight.
Thanks, Dennis.
Semper fi
Jim
Good fortune in having an AC 130 in the area.By 71 they were outfitted with a 40mm bodies and a 105 tank main gun. Their ability to remain on station and their accuracy was a game changer!
I do not remember a 105 firing from the 130. I do remember the four engines instead of the two on Puff.
The twenty mm were much louder than the 7.62, a different kind of dragon’s roar.
Thanks for the comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
yeah, there were constant changes being made to the armament packages as new technology and ideas meshed. The Bofors were impressive, although I never got up close and personal with them. It was something we saw at a distance. My huey gunship carried 2 mini guns and it was impressive to sit 4 feet from one as it fired. The Vulcan 20mm would have shaken our ship out of the air. We had a couple M 100 armored cars around which had Vulcans mounted. As you mentioned, the difference between 7.62 and 20mm was incredible. I was always glad to be either behind or beside them!
Can’t thank you enough for this display of knowledge in this rather arcane area. The Internet, now that I’ve checked, is rather hazy about
what was where and when back then when it came to these devastating fireships. Thanks for the clarity that I know has to have come from
your own experience…
Semper fi,
Jim
I think there is a mistake In this segment. In the last chapter you wrote: “There was no seat, and the extra rounds Rio had substituted for it had been pulled out the back, so I squatted down, my knees bent just enough so I could press my right eye into the soft rubber grommet of the gunsight.” In this segment it says: “I turned my head and started to move from my seat atop the ammo boxes Rio had substituted in place of the metal swivel chair.”
Did I miss something? If the boxes were pulled out how were you sitting on them?
Just an observation from an old Jarhead and I’m wrong quite often. Semper Fi.
The boxes forming the seat were not pulled out because the seat was so needed. You could not squat and stay still enough to
look through the reticle of the spotting scope. Thanks for the correction and I will see to the edit for the book.
Semper fi,
Jim
Fantastic again, keeps me at the edge of my seat, can only imagine having spooky or puff right in front of me, Seen them from afar .
The sound of the planes, the rotation close overhead not seeming possible, the shattering noise of the fire
is beyond belief. And sometimes, in secret, I cannot help but miss it…because I don’t live with that monster of fear
swelled up at the core of my very being…
Semper fi,
Jim
I went through a close support attack from Puff and Awesome is not a big enough word to describe plus the relief knowing they were fighting for you.
Great chapter 🇺🇸
And don’t forget the relief that they were good enough not to hit you or me by mistake. That shit is fire from
heaven, or hell, depending…And thanks for the great comment..
Semper fi,
Jim
Oh, Junior! Is the sound of the shit hitting the fan any louder than a .45 at close range? Was Sugar Daddy brain damaged or just too confident of his importance. Seems pissing of a dead man would be a serious miscalculation. As for the Gunny, another warm body to help was better than one cooling in the rain. I will be pacing until you post another. Take care, Jim.
The Walt McKinley. Thanks Walt, as I begin the next segment trying to live up to the one week per segment promise I made to some others on here.
It motivates me, in truth to have a deadline. Yes, the Gunny was cold as the driven snow but there was a real heart under there somewhere.
Thanks for the usual great comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jurgen’s speech was for his own benefit and bravado. One doubts seriously that he expects Junior to shoot him as his leadership is necessary and he knows it. One also believes he is smart enough to accept the Gunny’s directive and to apologize. Good cliffhanger though, for the end of the chapter.
Thank you J. The strange mix of men was a tough one for a youngster like me at that time to try to work with. The truth coming out here was that fear made me want to kill and not kill some of them
all the damned time. I wasn’t driven by pride, honor or doing the right thing. I was mostly driven by that curling miserable fear in my belly that I have fought over having there when my time on earth
seemed to count the most. PTSD is mostly fear and regret for having fear…and keeping it as secret as possible. Thanks for the pertinent comment, as usual and the usual support…
Semper fi,
Jim
When you think about it Jim, most of the guys on the front line were all young and all of them experienced the same type of gut fear and resented it as well. The male ego refuses to allow others to know of the gut fear that is ever present in combat situations.
One remembers Jurgen’s screaming fear, when caught on the make shift bridge and Jurgens remembered it as well. He wanted no part in crossing the river again. Problem with his memory, was that he forgot who came to save him! He also forgot the fact, that had it not been for artillery support, he would have been long dead. When things go wrong, it is always someone else’s fault!
Yes, it was day to day and night to night in that cursed valley and there was little memory of the day or night before.
Can you help keep me alive right now right here…and the rest means nothing. That was Jurgens and almost all of us.
I cannot be forgiven for my failures of memory and action from time to time either.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Naphelm would be handy if nva is in spider holes on the mud flats. Don’t know if any air so equipped is available but it would sure help and avoid short rounds from artillery with white phosphorus.
Getting fast movers to fire accurately from altitude with their napalm canisters
would have been way too risky, even if they would have come in. Air works when they can see you and the
enemy, or at least have a good idea of where the enemy is. Supporting fires, both air and artillery are way
too risky in some circumstance. Unless you are out of luck anyway, I mean.
Semper fi, and thanks for the comment.
Jim
Desperate times call for desperation measures. The nva has you vastly outnumbered and probably have a better supply line. They are willing to sacrifice many to use up your limited supply. This is there home turf and you are in a pretty damn tight spot. Can’t wait for the next chapter.
Actually, we were better, although sporadically supplied, and our small arms and larger arms were of much higher quality
than what they could field. Soviet armament was very over-rated. Browning’s .50 is a machined wonder of quality, as was the M-16 by Colt, in spite
of the criticisms against it. An AK isn’t even close in performance or weight or ability to fire continuous at high barrel heats.
Thanks for the comment and yes, hell is coming to breakfast, as Josey Wales might say…
Semper fi,
Jim
If the nva was up when you fired the ontos they are dead. You can’t dodge the fire. Probably need to put some artillery on the tree line across the river.
There was no question that they were taking hits but the fact that they were sacrificing some of their men to get into
the holes and set up for the night spoke volumes when I finally figured it out. No, there is no time, that’s for the movies.
You fire the 106, the round goes out to 200 meters, the round detonates and the flechettes are discharged at hyper velocity.
That’s all instant in real life. You are correct sir. How many died from my flechette fire I will never know, however.
Semper fi and thanks for the keen eye and life experience you just brought to the page…
Jim
HIya! This is a different “Jb” than the one ya just replied to, and I was not going to comment at all, but I liked the last sentence of your latest reply.
Quite humorous, in fact.
I wonder if “that Jb”, “gets it”… I certainly did, & being that it is so recent to my attempt to inform you of an “issue” I had been running in to on FB with seeing your posts, I hope it wasn’t directed towards him by mistaken ID , due to the initials being the same as mine.
The sarcasm &/or being facetious, was not lost on “me” anyway…
In regard to that FB “issue” that I mentioned to you. (a week or so ago in my post on your page) It apparently has been “corrected”, by the changing of the “follow” setting on your page. So, your posts on this books chapters, as well as some of the other posts you have made( recently, artwork), are showing up now on my timeline , rather than getting , “disappeared” like they were before.
Moving on though, once again this new chapter is outstanding and like the rest, are certainly spellbinding & suspenseful. It will be a sad day for me, as well as I would think, others, once the final chapter ends.
I will not be contacting you again, but I do want to say, “Thank you!” for your works, as I appreciate your style of writing & the stories that you are telling everyone.
Semper Fi! & Best Wishes to you and yours in the future…
Respectfully,
JB Anthony (USMC ’79-’86)
Wow, that was different. Two guys in close order drill on here but both using the uncommon names of J.B. And thinking quite differently, at that.
I much appreciate the differentiation and the support written into your comment. Thank you!
Semper fi,
Jim
Jergens sure seems to have a problem with his big mouth and a short memory.
“Nobody’s going to want to cross that river under fire and (humpback) (hump back) all that shit,” Jurgens piped in. “We’ve taken enough casualties since setting in here, but then you know that don’t you, Junior.”
Always appreciate your sharp eyes, Pete.
Thanks for all of your support.
Noted and Corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jurgens is a pain in the ass.
And then some, as was Sugar Daddy and so many others. Fighting for survival does n to always bring out the best characteristics of man…
Semper fi,
Jim
DAMN!
Thanks for the great one word compliment Jack. Much appreciated on Memorial Day!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Lt. Too many many questions streking through my mind as I absorb all that has and is happening to try to comment more than that at this time. You have done well. Semper Fi
Thank you Jack, I shall await a time when you are settled down enough to query me back…
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt., thanks for new chapter. wetsup! as an old coach used to say, we eat this…….you know the rest BTW “listen to the ‘rythm’ of the falling rain” . Great song back when..not that it matters. Keep it up !!
Thanks Jim, your support and patience means a lot…
Semper fi,
Jim
As you know, I was not in that valley of death. What I do know is you and your men have provided havoc on the NVA troops since you arrive and displayed your ability to wreak havok on them. They are pissed and coming after you in full force times four. Looks to me like they have manuevered you and your men into box, (and I’m talking Jack in the Box), that you’re not coming out of. At least not in one piece. They want you in a bad way. I visualize four regiments organizing an attack from all four sides at this point. I will be surprised if you all, or part, make it back to the old strip. The fuckin walls are closing in. Ishall wait and see as you unfold this incredible experience. Semper FI Sir
That was supposed to read (and I’m not talking about Jack In The Box)… oppsy!
Got that Jack! And thanks, of course…
Semper fi,
Jim
the whole A Shau was a trap. They had all the advantage except for supporting fires and our own were pretty limited.
Thanks for pointing that out. Accurate analysis.
Semper fi,
Jim